


Just one single glimpse of relief

by unhookthestars



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:54:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28011951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unhookthestars/pseuds/unhookthestars
Summary: “Grantaire, where were you?”Grantaire does not look at him and is quiet when he responds. “I was drunk. You know this. You told me to sleep off my drink somewhere else. I didn’t listen.”“No, after. Where did you go when you arrived here? Why didn’t you come find us?”
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 47





	Just one single glimpse of relief

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Taylor Swift's "Epiphany".

Grantaire wakes up screaming. He grabs his chest, wondering why there is no pain, no blood on his shirt. Was Enjolras taking his hand and finally allowing him a place beside him, no matter how temporary, been a dream? Nothing but his mind trying to comfort him during a time of great distress? Another wine fuelled fantasy? He shakes his head, finally taking in his surroundings. He is in the middle of a field and all the green bathed in the brightness of the sun is almost blinding. Maybe this meant dying with Enjolras couldn’t have been a dream. If it were, he would have woken up at the Musain, right? What if that was prophecy and this was the dream? He knows he should try to wake up, to go back and be useful for once in his life, but he’s tired and this field looks peaceful enough-it doesn’t look like anyone’s around for miles. He’s alone. Just like he deserves to be.

He takes a deep breath and wonders where his friends are. He hopes that wherever they are, they’re happy- they deserve it after the barricades. They also deserve to finally be rid of him, the dead weight in their midst, the cynic who passed out and didn’t even fight by their side. He thinks again of Enjolras’ hand in his, and silently thanks him- dream or not, Enjolras had given him everything he ever wanted even if he had done nothing to deserve it. 

He stands, and for the first time in a long time, he doesn’t feel shaky. He doesn’t know where he is, or where he’s going but he doesn’t care. He picks a direction and goes. Before he met Enjolras he was an aimless wanderer, just floating adrift wherever life led. After him, he followed where he led. It was time to wander again.

However, even in this weird limbo dreamscape he’s found himself in, the universe was cruel, because his feet carry him to a place that could be a plaza and there, crowded together on a bench, were his friends. He runs from that place faster than he’d ever run before.  
\-----  
As he and his friends settle around the bench, Enjolras wonders where Grantaire is. He had woken up and the others were right there with smiles on their faces, joking about how he was, for the first time ever, late. Then they hugged, sharing unspoken apologies and absolutions. It felt wrong without Grantaire there.

If Grantaire had died beside him wouldn’t it make sense that he would also have been right there next to him, when he woke up in this place? Unless he- no. He wouldn’t think like that. Grantaire had been there right beside him, gave him comfort when he was about to die. He had to be there, somewhere. He had to be. He just had to find out where. Grantaire was one of them. He should be there beside them. He had not always thought that way, but Grantaire had proven himself loyal- if not to the cause, then to his friends. He deserved his spot next to them.

Enjolras looks for him everywhere, but as days become months and Grantaire is still not found, he begins to despair. Was the universe really so cruel that it would allow him a glimpse into who Grantaire really was, and have them never meet again?  
\----  
Grantaire figures he’s in hell, or some version thereof. He keeps seeing Enjolras and his friends, and he knows eventually they will find him. Eventually, they will find him and hurt him for failing them, and he will deserve every second of it. But he is a coward, so he keeps running for as long as he can. He lasts almost a year.

He’s standing at a bridge, bottle in his hand, looking at the water below. He hears someone call his name and he knows it’s Enjolras so he should run, but he has no fight left in him. When he finally sees Enjolras in the corner of his eye, close enough to touch, Grantaire holds his breath. He’s expecting a blow, or harsh words, but they never come. Enjolras just stares at him. Grantaire wonders why he looks concerned, if this is part of how this place works, if he has to beg for the torture to start. Grantaire keeps looking at the water.

Enjolras takes in the sight of Grantaire and he hates that he looks scared and weary. He’s afraid he’ll run away so he tries to keep his voice soft when he asks: “Grantaire, where were you?”  
Grantaire does not look at him and is quiet when he responds. “I was drunk. You know this. You told me to sleep off my drink somewhere else. I didn’t listen.”  
“No, after. Where did you go when you arrived here? Why didn’t you come find us?”  
“So you could finally make me leave? Berate me for sleeping through the fighting right in front of our friends?” Grantaire laughs, but there’s no humor in it. He sounds manic, desperate. “I thought I would spare us both the trouble.”  
“I don’t understand.”  
“Is this what hell is? I thought the pain would be more physical but I suppose this works too.” Grantaire doesn’t like the idea but he supposes that’s the whole point. He takes another drink from his bottle.  
“What?” Enjolras is trying his hardest to keep the frustration at his lack of understanding at the situation from creeping into his voice, but it’s getting harder.  
Grantaire just shakes his head. “Enjolras, why are you here?”  
“I was looking for you. I thought that would be obvious.”  
“Why?”  
“R-“  


The nickname makes him snap. Enjolras never called him that and there’s no way he would do it unless he really was in hell and this is how he was going to be tortured by being forced to admit to the man he loves more than anything why he was not, and never will be, good enough for him. For the first time since the barricade, he meets Enjolras’ eyes. “I did nothing to help your revolution. So tell me why I would look for you, force myself to look you in the eye and pretend I didn’t fail our friends. That I didn’t fail you.”  


Grantaire’s voice breaking on the last word broke Enjolras’ heart. He takes a risk and grabs his arm, forces him to listen. “You did not fail me. While I was willing to die on that barricade, I was afraid to die alone. I didn’t expect I would, but facing those guardsmen, I was afraid. But I didn’t have to be. You came, and you asked for my permission. Me taking your hand wasn’t me doing you a favour, it was selfish.”  


Grantaire blinks at him. “To die side by side with a cynic? Selfish? No Enjolras, I think that honour goes to me.”  


Enjolras knows no logic can get through to Grantaire when he is like this and he is desperate now, so he plays his final card. “Will you still follow me now, as you did back then?”  
“You know I believe in you, Enjolras.”  
And he does. Grantaire told him that when they were still alive. He was just too blind to realise what it meant. He wasn’t anymore. “Then stand beside me again, Grantaire.”  
Grantaire does not respond.  
“Please.” He reaches out a hand.  
Maybe it was the please, maybe it was exhaustion, but Grantaire takes it.


End file.
